Positano
by orphanactress818
Summary: My take on what happened between Jenny and Gibbs in Positano.


Positano

"I keep telling you, I don't need stitches!" a very irritated Leroy Jethro Gibbs ground out for the fourth time. The redheaded woman standing next to him just shook her head, a ghost of a smile on her lips. '_Honestly_,' she thought, '_some things just never change_.'

Having been his partner for nearly a year now, and his lover for a matter of months, NCIS Agent Jennifer Shepard knew that the man currently arguing fruitlessly with the weary doctor before him had a length of determination a mile wide…with a stubborn streak to match. Sometimes she admired that in him. Sometimes she found it amusing. And sometimes, it was just downright annoying. This was one of those times.

The small smile dropped from her lips as she reexamined the wound on her partner's arm. It wasn't bleeding as badly as it had been a little over an hour ago, but she could see clearly where the bullet had torn through the skin just below his left shoulder and it wasn't pretty. The gash must have been painful and Jenny knew that if she were the one sitting on that cot with a wound like that, she would have jumped at the pain medication the doctor had kindly offered. Of course, Jethro, being Jethro had turned them down. Jenny sighed. No wonder some days she just wanted to scream out in frustration and call it quits. Jethro Gibbs could be irritating as hell.

Sighing, she reached up and brushed away a stray lock of long hair that had fallen into her eyes. She unconsciously squared her shoulders before clearing her throat, effectively interrupting the, what would soon be full-blown, argument the two men were having.

"Jethro," she said sweetly, turning to her partner and laying a hand on his uninjured shoulder, "I really think you should do as the good doctor orders and get those stitches."

He blinked and opened his mouth, but she cut him off before he could say anything.

"Jethro," she growled warningly, letting an intimidating tone flavor her voice.

He huffed angrily, but conceded. Turning away from her without a word, he watched silently as the doctor bustled around the room, gathering the things he would need to stitch up his unwilling patient's arm.

Jenny immediately felt bad. She'd seen the pain tightening the corners of his eyes when he'd faced her and knew that his arm was hurting him much more than he let on. Damnit! Why did she always feel so guilty whenever she made him do something he didn't want to, even if it was what was best for him?

The doctor came back with a tray of supplies and a bottle of pills.

"Senor," he cautioned in heavily accented English, "I really think you should take some of these now. This will hurt."

Gibbs' only response was to fix him with a glare that could melt the Antarctic from right under the poor penguin's feet.

Jenny sighed again. This was going to be a long night.

oOo

Walking with her partner back to their hotel room, Jenny breathed in the sweet, rose-scented Mediterranean air and smiled to herself. Jethro had sat quietly through the stitching process and had even, with a little encouragement, taken the bottle of pain pills he'd been offered. Though he hadn't agreed to take any, she still considered it a very big step in the direction of his hospital skills. He still hadn't gotten around to the actually-being-polite-to-the-doctors part of the agenda, but he was definitely improving overall.

Glancing over at the man walking quietly beside her, Jenny frowned. He still hadn't said anything to her. She wondered if he was still mad at her about the whole stitches thing. '_Nah_,' she thought, '_even Jethro isn't that unforgiving.'_

They entered the lobby and Jenny nodded at the receptionist, giving him a polite smile. The moment they stepped into the elevator, Jethro punched his thumb on the 'closed' button, followed quickly by the button that would take them to the third floor. Several times during the ride up, Jenny half-opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it. So, it was in uncomfortable silence that the agents made their way out of the lift and to their room.

Once the door had been opened and the lights flicked on, Jethro tossed the bottle containing his medication on the nightstand and sank into one of the deep green armchairs by the window. Stepping closer to him, Jenny studied his face as he stared out the window. It was a cold, blank mask—something was really bothering him.

"Jethro," she whispered quietly. He gave no notice of hearing her.

She moved closer and around him, stopping only a few inches from his face. Finally, he looked up, locking his eyes with hers. She could see the physical pain there, as well as the emotional. Crouching down so that she was slightly below him, her hands resting lightly on his knees, she looked up at him.

"Jethro, what is it?"

"Damnit, Jen!" he swore, standing up abruptly, causing her to lose her balance and topple to the floor. He didn't seem to notice. Instead, he began pacing the length of the room from the window to the door. Sitting quietly where she'd landed, she waited for him to continue.

He did. Stopping, he stared hard at her.

"This shouldn't have happened," he growled angrily. "That bastard shouldn't have gotten away again."

In that instant, Jenny realized that he blamed himself for getting shot, resulting in the escape of their suspect. She should've known. It was just like him to beat himself up over something that he couldn't control.

Getting to her feet quickly, she strode over to where he was still standing, clenching his fists tightly. Standing right in front of him, she waited until he met her eyes before starting.

"It's _not_ your fault, Jethro," she said forcefully. "If it's anybody's fault, it's mine. I should've stopped him after he shot you. I was close enough; I could have."

Her partner look taken aback, as if he hadn't considered that line of thought before. _'And he probably hadn't,'_ Jenny thought grimly.

"Then why didn't you?" he asked quietly.

Jenny bit the inside of her cheek before answering. "I was worried about you," she admitted. "I wasn't sure whether it had hit you in the chest or shoulder and…"

"You thought it might have hit me in the heart," Jethro finished for her.

She nodded.

"That was a probie mistake, Jen," he told her. "You know it's always about getting the guy first."

"I-I know," she said, mortified at hearing her voice crack. "I just…"

"Jen," Jethro sighed, anger deflating all of a sudden.

He wrapped his arms around her tightly and she held on as if he were a life preserver and she a drowning woman. And she knew, in that moment, that she could never forgive herself if anything happened to him. Startled, she firmly pushed that thought out of her head. Sure, she liked him. He was probably the most fantastic person she'd ever met, not to mention a dedicated agent and the best partner she could've ever hoped for. But, what she was thinking…she couldn't be in love with him, could she? '_No_,' Jenny told herself firmly, '_it's just a little post-traumatic stress, that's all. If anything bad ever happened to Jethro_—she felt herself shudder at the thought—_I'd find someway to move on.'_

Pulling back slightly, he tilted her face upwards, forcing her green eyes to meet his concerned blue ones. Somewhat taken aback at the level of compassion she saw in them, she was suddenly ashamed of the tears swimming in her eyes. He was the one who was injured; she should be taking care of him, not the other way around.

Breaking out of his embrace, she shook her head and clenched her jaw to stop the tears from spilling. Striding quickly over to the nightstand where the forgotten pills lay, she grabbed the bottle and opened it, shaking two small white tablets into her palm. Grabbing a bottle of water on her way back to where her partner was still standing, watching her, she shoved them both into his hands.

He raised an eyebrow at her and she could tell that he was faintly amused by her insistence.

"Jethro," she sighed, exasperated. "Please, for once in your life, listen to me."

His only response was a slight quirk at the corner of his mouth. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"This is _not_ funny!" she snapped.

"If you say so Jen," he replied, stepping around her to set both the water and the pills on the nightstand.

"Jethro, what is your problem? Why can't you just take them?" Jenny was beginning to get seriously annoyed.

He turned to look back at her.

"I don't like having anything messing with my head Jen," he said softly. "You, of all people, should know that."

"Yes, I do, but goddamnit! You're in _pain_ Jethro!"

"It's nothing I can't deal with." This time, his voice was like steel, betraying none of its earlier warmth.

Running her hands through her hair angrily, Jenny turned away from him to face the window.

When she didn't say anything for a few minutes, Jethro sighed. He walked toward her and embraced her from behind.

"Jen, it's late. Let's just go to bed, okay. I promise I'll take 'em if I start feeling worse."

She kept her back to him, but said gruffly, "Promise?"

"Promise." She could feel him smiling into her hair.

Spinning in his arms until she was facing him, she returned his smile with one of her own. Taking the unspoken invitation, Jethro lowered his head to brush his lips against hers. At her slight whimper he deepened the kiss and soon they were both backing towards the large bed that dominated the room.

Pulling off his shirt, Jenny saw her partner's stitches and immediately gasped.

"Jethro," she said warningly, "we really can't do this right now."

"Yes we can," he insisted, his hands roaming her body, quickly ridding her of her shirt and turning her few remaining brain cells to mush. She moaned as his lips touched the sensitive spot on her collarbone, causing her to momentarily forget all form of coherent speech.

Regaining her senses only slightly as his mouth moved toward her stomach, hands already working at the button of her jeans, she began her weakening protest again.

"Jethro, stop," she whispered.

His only response was to hum slightly against her belly, causing her to shiver and completely forget her argument. Nothing mattered but the feel of his hands and mouth on her body and the need for release currently tightening her abdomen.

oOo

Twenty minutes later, Jenny was wrapped in her lover's arms, savoring the feel of the glow that comes only after really good sex. Just as her eyes were beginning to close, she looked back at the man beside her and noticed the torn stitches just beneath his left shoulder. Pulling herself out of his embrace with a gasp, she tilted his arm sideways, trying to get a better glimpse of the wound through the strip of moonlight shining through the gap in the curtains.

"You could just turn on the light, you know," Jethro said.

His partner just gaped at him. Finally, she shut her mouth with a snap and narrowed her eyes at him.

"Take the pills," she said fiercely. "Now."

Jethro sighed.

"Jen, it really doesn't hurt," he pleaded. "Can we please just go to sleep?"

For a moment, Jenny considered forcing the tablets down his throat, but then decided against it. If he was really that adamant about not taking the damn things, then who was she to make him?

"Fine," she huffed. Getting out of bed, she felt her way to the bathroom and grabbed a towel from the pile next to the sink. Tying it firmly over her partner's injury, she admonished him quietly.

"You can have it your way for tonight, but tomorrow we're going back to that doctor and you _will_ have that arm stitched up again."

"Yes, ma'am," came Jethro's whispered reply. Stifling a sigh of impatience, she settled back down next to him. As he wound his arms around her, she let out a little giggle.

"What?" he murmured sleepily.

"You know, Jethro, you really have to learn how to pace yourself."


End file.
